(Who can guess where this comes from?)
To drift away where the present melts
Where I can’t feel the massive welts
That hurt me so – inside my heart
And seem to be on every part
Of me. Inside, outside – leaking through
Isn’t living enough to do?
I’m swimming through my honeyed life
But it’s nothing but pain and strife
Sleeping is my favourite thing
No roses or presents all tied up with string
The delicious feeling of more time in bed
I’ll sleep and I’ll sleep and I’ll sleep ’till I’m dead